Chapter 193: The Onyx Hounds’ First Supper (Is Pizza, Thank God)
Soomin shuffled in last, wrapped in what could only be described as a fluffy, oversized pajama set covered in cartoon foxes. It should have been modest. It should have been innocuous.
Instead, the baggy fabric sohow managed to make her incredible, voluptuous figure even more noticeable—like trying to hide a Ferrari under a bedsheet.
The softness of the material clung to her curves in ways that drew the eye despite her obvious attempts to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible.
She hugged a pillow to her chest like a shield, her gradient blue eyes darting nervously around the room, clearly uncomfortable with the attention her body commanded even when she was trying to hide it.
Skylar reappeared from upstairs in full goth-punk lounge mode: a deliberately ripped band t-shirt that read "CRIMSON RUIN WORLD TOUR" in faded letters, the tears strategically placed to reveal glimpses of pale skin and the black lace of her bra.
Her plaid pajama pants hung low on her hips, and her feet were encased in fuzzy black slippers shaped like grinning skulls. Her hair, usually artfully ssy, was now tied back in a casual bun that revealed the multiple piercings running along both ears and the elegant line of her neck.
Isabelle, in stark contrast to the rest, looked effortlessly, almost insultingly elegant in a simple cashre sweater and silk lounge pants. The outfit was modest, refined, and sohow made everyone else look like they’d gotten dressed in the dark while drunk. She moved with the sa regal grace she always did, taking her seat at the head of the dining table like she’d been born to occupy that exact space.
The doorbell rang, cutting through the ambient tension. Marco practically sprinted to answer it, returning monts later with a precariously balanced stack of pizza boxes that slled like absolute heaven after our brush with Jai’s attempt at poultry genocide.
As everyone descended on the food with varying degrees of desperation and relief, Carn—now noticeably more intoxicated than she’d been even ten minutes ago—stumbled her way over to where I stood.
Without warning or permission, she draped herself against my side, her arm slinging heavily around my shoulders. Her impressive chest pressed firmly, insistently against my arm, soft and warm even through the fabric of my hoodie.
"You’re... you’re sturdy, kiddo," she slurred, her breath hot against my ear and reeking of expensive whiskey. She leaned more of her weight against , apparently having decided I was now her designated support structure. "Good posture. Strong shoulders. Perfect for leaning on. You don’t mind, right?"
From across the room, I saw Natalia’s entire body go rigid. Her purple eyes narrowed into slits, her pizza slice frozen halfway to her mouth, forgotten. Her jaw clenched, and I could practically see the jealous fury radiating off her in waves.
Emi looked flustered, her cheeks flushing an even deeper pink as she fumbled with her plate and nearly dropped it. Akari, in contrast, simply smirked knowingly, leaning over to whisper sothing into Hikari’s ear that made her twin burst into bright, cheerful laughter.
I was effectively trapped, pinned between Carn’s weight and the solid edge of the kitchen counter. This was my life now, apparently.
"Glad I can be of service," I said dryly, my tone carefully neutral even as I felt Natalia’s death glare boring into the side of my head.
After everyone had consud their fill of actual, edible food, the energy in the room improved marginally. Stomachs were full, the imdiate crisis had been averted, and the group began to relax into sothing approaching casual comfort.
But an awkward silence still hung in the air like a fog, thick and uncomfortable. We were strangers forced together by circumstance, united only by our shared status as rejects, and the weight of my earlier speech—my declaration that I wasn’t here to play house or make friends—still echoed in everyone’s minds like an unresolved chord.
Emi, ever the determined peacemaker, clapped her hands together with renewed, almost aggressive cheer.
"Hey! So, um, since we’re all here together..." She looked around the room, her sapphire-blue hair bouncing with the movent, her reddish-brown eyes bright with forced optimism. "Does anyone want to play a ga? You know, to help break the ice? Get to know each other better?"
"What did you have in mind?" Isabelle asked, her tone politely interested, though her wine-colored eyes held a hint of genuine curiosity.
Before Emi could answer, Skylar looked up from her phone, where she’d been scrolling through what looked like a music playlist. Her gradient purple eyes fixed on
with lazy challenge, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching.
"I don’t know," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm and deliberate provocation. "Is the guy who’s ’not here to make friends’ actually going to participate in a bonding activity? Or is this beneath the great Satori Nakano?"
I didn’t flinch, didn’t react, even as Carn continued to use my shoulder as her personal pillow. I t Skylar’s gaze head-on, my expression carefully neutral, my voice calm.
"I’m not here to make friends," I repeated, letting each word land with deliberate weight. "I’m here to win. At everything." I let a slow, predatory smile curve my lips. "So what are we playing, Bubblegum?"
Her eye twitched at the nickna, a flash of genuine irritation breaking through her bored mask. Point to .
Emi’s expression brightened imdiately, relief and excitent flooding her features. "Oh! I saw a whole cabinet full of board gas in the living room earlier! We could pick sothing from there!"
"Wait," Marco interrupted, his brow furrowing as he looked around the assembled group, ntally counting heads. "We’re missing soone. That quiet blonde guy. The one who barely said anything during dinner."
"N-Noah Gray," Jacob supplied helpfully, not looking up from his datapad. His fingers were already flying across the screen, probably pulling up a full dossier on the missing student.
"Whatever." Raphael grunted dismissively, tossing his empty paper plate toward the trash can. It bounced off the rim and fell to the floor. He didn’t bother picking it up.
"Guy’s probably weird. Screw him. Let’s play sothing already before I die of boredom."
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